


Could You Just

by AllJokesAside



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alpha Connie Springer, Alpha Eren Yeager, Alpha Jean Kirstein, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Beta Marco Bott, Bonding, Dubious Consent, F/M, Fluff, Jearmin - Freeform, M/M, Mpreg, Multi, One-Sided Mikasa Ackerman/Jean Kirstein, adding tags as i post
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-18 10:02:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11288976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllJokesAside/pseuds/AllJokesAside
Summary: Jean Kirstein is an Alpha's Alpha. He's tough and strong and a beacon, he thinks, of what all Alphas should be. Mikasa Ackerman is a gorgeous Omega who he's going to win over and bring home to his mother. Except, no. That's not how this works at all, because her little Beta friend is making eyes at him and something about this isn't quite right. Either way, Eren Jaeger is going to fucking kill him.





	1. Introduction

One  
. . .

 

Growing up, Jean Kirstein never planned on joining the military. He was expected to help his mother with her home-grown food service, Kirstein Foods. It was all he ever knew, really. In the mornings, he’d help her prepare and in return she’d treat him to a warm bowl of oats with all his favorite spices and herbs, treated just to his liking. To this day his mouth still watered at the thought of the gooey treat. In the afternoons, he watched as she worked tirelessly into the evenings. He remembers the sweat on her brow and how she, with her puffy sleeves rolled to her elbows, fingers kneading into fluffy dough, instructed him never to touch his hair or his face while preparing food unless he could take the time to re-wash his hands. He remembered the seriousness in her eyes as she warned him of the way sickness spread in their little village behind the walls. 

 

Most days, she taught him as she worked, preparing him for his future in her position, carrying on the Kirstein name of good food and product and in exchange, making a proper living for himself. By the age of nine, Jean had never eaten a meal that he hadn’t had a hand in. It was when kids began to mature into their natures, usually by the age of twelve, that Jean began to feel embarrassed at his mother. Always, she wailed for him from the doors whenever the sun began to get low, calling for him to come and give her a hand with supper.

 

“Cooking is for Omegas,” the Alpha kids taunted him, even as Jean started towering over them in height. “Make us a meal Jean-boy!”

 

When his shoulders broadened and his face matured from the chubby, cherub thing it had once been, into the chiseled, ‘grim’, muzzle it had become, the teasing became something Jean no longer stood for. He was brash and intimidating and his mother worried after him tirelessly. Though he hadn’t natured, he was a ball of anger and his stature allowed him to muscle through whoever tried to taunt him. By the time he was eleven, to no surprise of anyone around him, he’d had his first rut. He was an Alpha, pure, strong and true and he reveled in it. No one so much as made a joke towards him. Never again did he hear the cruel remarks. He breathed dominance and the others cowered, even when he showed up in the alleys smelling warm and sweet with icing on his cheek.

 

At fifteen, he’d gotten sick of baking and the relationship between he and his mother suffered for it. Nowadays, when the sun reddened and the stars peeked through the blood-red skies, Jean wasn’t called into the kitchen. His relationship with his mother took a turn for the worse when he stopped even asking for his favorite treats. Small talk was a thing of the past. She tried, and he made exceedingly clear efforts to push her away which only made her press further.  
But she’d had no reason to worry, Jean had felt. He was an Alpha and _maybe if she wasn’t such an omega, she’d understand._

____

 

In the year 845, Jean’s problems were less simple. The Colossal and Armored Titans appeared at the gates of the homely, low class district of Shiganshina. They barreled through Wall Maria. Never before had the dastardly, humanoid creatures broken into the walls. Jean’s own village was located behind Wall Rose and before the citizens of the town understood just what had happened, refugees had flooded through their own gates. From them he heard of the devastation and death that bled throughout the poor villages of Wall Maria. People gossiped about the monsters that ate humans and stomped on houses with expressions of glee. An entire chunk of human life had been snuffed out as a result. 

The pity was there for these people but it only lasted a week. A week was all it took for understanding to sink in. The land before Wall Rose would not be recovered, the refugees would not be returning and soon, Jean’s well-off hometown began to struggle as well. There wasn’t enough of anything. There wasn’t enough food, jobs, or money for people to spend at places like Kirstein Foods.  
When he caught his mother wrapping up her delicacies and storing them away with tears in her eyes, fingers to her mouth as she worried over whether she could preserve them when they had stopped selling all together, Jean made up his mind. The only job he knew that took every Alpha, Beta and Omega while also providing stable income was the military. 

 

So when Jean Kirstein was eighteen years old, stubble growing in finally a way that wasn’t at all patchy, he enlisted. 

 

“My Jean-boy!” His mother stood in the door way, her hands clutched at her bosom, fingers caked in white flour, even though business was slow to the point where she baked only once a week. Even with the lines of stress etched into her brow, her eyes glowed as she took in her strong, Alpha boy who stood on their step, duffle bag holstered on his shoulder.

 

Jean grunted, leaning back as she threw her arms around him, sobbing into his neck. His shoulders drew up and his lips slipped further into a grimace. Even with no one around, it seemed she was trying to cause a scene.

“Alright Ma,” He tried, stepping backwards, glancing behind himself so not to fall.

“I’m so proud of you, my boy,” she sniffed.

Jean sighs at the tears in her eyes.

“I have to go.”

“Wait, wait,” she snickered at his impatience, used to his bite by now. 

She disappeared into their home and Jean contemplated running off. She was being far too dramatic, for it was only basic. He’d be back in a few months. And even then, Jean surmised smugly, he’d make the elite squad and move into a comfy position in the Military police, safe and sound behind Wall Sina. 

“Here!” She shoved a tin container into his hands, the white bow was crisp and taut around it to keep it intact, pretty.  
From the smell alone, Jean was transported back to the days where he enjoyed cooking, when he loved spending time with his mother and for a moment he paused, struck soundly at the thought that he was leaving home for the first time. Finally, it had sunken in. And his mother, eyes knowing as she met his, gave him a soft smile and pecked his cheek before shoving him down the step, a hand to her chest and another raised in the air.

“Goodbye, my Jean-boy! Don’t forget about me, my love.”

 

Surprised at the churning in his stomach, Jean’s cheeks were pink as he made his way off, his mother’s eyes forever on his back until he turned the first corner towards the station where the recruit carriage awaited. The cobble-stone streets echoed his steps in the early morning. In the dusk, while the sun was just barely peeking through, and no other soul was out just yet, Jean may have clutched the tin to his chest. The smell of his favorite sugar cookies wafted up to his nose and he ducked his head. One single tear might have collected in his right eye. Jean would never acknowledge it.

. . .

 

Jean’s first few days of basic would be his easiest days, no doubt.

 

The lead officers were nowhere to be found the first week. Elder soldiers directed the trainees to their living halls, a bundle of buildings in the center of the large camp that made up the training grounds. In the first week, while they waited for everyone who wanted to join from every Southern village behind wall Rose to make it there, the trainees were given time to get comfortable and explore.  
The camp stunk strongly of Alpha. That was the first thing Jean had realized. He mused about this as he dug his belongings out from his bag and went about shoving his clothes in the unclaimed dresser beside his bunk. There were eight bunks in this room alone, and two still were unclaimed. There were betas as well, no doubt in Jean’s mind, but the overwhelming majority of young men and women there were, by far, Alphas just like him. 

 

It was a comforting thought that he wouldn’t have to deal too much with useless, whiny omegas like his mother. Omegas could join only recently, the military’s numbers had been dwindling and they needed to replenish their forces, they couldn’t afford to be choosey. A body was a body here. In his opinion, omegas were only good for one thing.

 

Jean hadn’t come across one just yet as they were confined to their own dorms, separate from Alphas. Betas, however, were mixed in wherever there was space. And one beta in particular had already been someone Jean could warm up to.

“You aren’t seriously just unpacking, are you?” Marco Bott’s voice cut through his thoughts swiftly, the sound of weight dumping onto the bed on his right caused him to whip his head around.

“You’ve been here two whole days.” He commented lamely.

“What are you, my mother?” Jean scuffed.

 

The boy was sturdy and tan, freckles dusted his cheeks. Bigger, he was than many alphas Jean had come across, but beta he was in personality it seemed. He was a wholesome fellow who approached everyone in the same friendly manner. At first, Jean had been turned off by the idea of someone so good. But Marco had wormed his way into Jean’s presence multiple times already in the two days that they’d been here. And, low and behold, he too was planning on joining the Military police. It seemed obvious then, that they’d get to know each other.

Marco guffawed, head thrown back good-naturedly.

“God no!”

“Yeah,” Another voice cut out from the door way. Jean and Marco both turned to find a shorter boy there, his hands fisted on his hips. His hair was shaved in a way that was probably more efficient for what they were all there for. “Marco could never give birth to something as ugly as your mug.”

“And just who the fuck are you, huh?” Jean stood, a grin on his face that wasn’t disarming in the least.  
Marco snorted and clapped a hand on his shoulder. 

“You both wreak, quit it. Jean, that’s Connie, Connie this is Jean. Don’t kill each other, please? Thanks.”

“Sorry Marco, I know my Alpha gland is too strong sometimes. You can’t even smell Jean’s, huh?”  
Jean sputtered, the lamp on the dresser top shuttered and faltered at the roughness in which Jean knocked into it.

“I ain’t worried about no shrimp like you!” 

“Oi! Who you callin’ a shrimp?”

Marco’s eyes flickered between the two of them.

“So," He smiled, "Who wants lunch?”

 

. . .

 

The rest of the week went by in a similar fashion. Soon their table filled with other faces that were now familiar. Thomas, Samuel and a few other guys regularly sat with them as well. It was on the last day that things broke the slow, easy routine. 

 

The dining hall was loud and crowded now that all the cadets had arrived for basic training. They were finally given some sort of acknowledgment when one of the officers stood at the front of the room and encouraged them to fill their bellies now because they may not be able to stomach much from this point on. It was an attempt to shake them up a little, and for some it worked, but Jean rolled his eyes and dug in. Connie, spurred on by Jean’s dedication, did as well. And so, it was with his mouth stuffed with gruel, food nothing like his mother’s, that Jean’s eyes met the dark-haired beauty from across the room.

 

He'd choked, and Thomas patted his back enthusiastically as they made a scene. Marco pushed a glass of water into his hands and Connie, damn him, snickered behind his palm.

“You’re gonna die before we even face the titans!” Samuel teased.

“Don’t joke,” Marco berated with a smile twitching at his lips. Even he could be the devil, Jean thought darkly as he gulped the water down, slamming the cup on the table. When he felt eyes on him he waved everyone off, eyebrow twitching.

“Oh, I see,” Marco hummed and Jean blushed.

“Quit it.”

“She is gorgeous, huh?,” Marco was elbowing his ribs now. “Go talk to her!”

“I hear she’s an omega too,” someone whispered at Jean, “Jackpot, am I right?”

“Shaddup.” 

 

Jean covered his expression by downing more water, eyes purposefully whipping away from the black-haired cadet with the haunted eyes. Her skin had been porcelain, creamy. Her eyes were gorgeous things, wrapped around thick, dark eyelashes that matched the hair that lay around her shoulders. 

Shiny.

 

In his quest to find something else to look at, his eyes had taken to the two men she sat with. He growled in annoyance, petty as it may seem, and he sized them up. Neither of them were as tall as he, nor were they anything to consider competition. She spoke to the brown-haired one and Jean pursed his lips out of jealousy. The other, the blonde, Jean realized, was a petite little thing. He was feminine, what on earth was a twerp like that doing in a place like this? The other men and women would eat him alive, for sure! Jean scoffed at these “bodyguards”, he’d show her a real man, an Alpha man. 

 

These thoughts were later deemed awkward when Jean found that the two empty beds at the end of their room were meant for those same guys. The brunette hovered around the blonde one ceaselessly and smelled of Alpha to boot. So, getting the woman might be a little more difficult. At least, Jean sighed, the blonde wasn’t Alpha as well. Even if he was, Jean could tell by looking at him that he’d be no problem to deal with, but beating them both back was something he was happy to not have to do.

 

He watched him as he sorted through a bag of what looked to be books, his legs crossed atop his bunk. His hair was a bit above shoulder length and curled stupidly around his round chin. He was slim, pathetically omega-like. Impossible, however, as he was assigned a bed in an Alpha-centered room. It seemed nature gave him the shit end of the stick. A Beta, then, for sure.

 

Too soon, he had looked up before Jean could look away and Jean’s brown hues were met with eyes like the sky. A small, sweet smile graced his features, and Jean stole his eyes away at the sight of it. An itch he mistook to be annoyance spread through his chest. Jean was certain he could feel the brunette’s deathly green eyes burning a hole through the side of his head, the smell of his pheromones beat strongly, protectively across the room, a challenge.

 

No problem at all.

 

. . .


	2. Chapter 2

 

Two

. . .

“You wimps don’t know it, but you just signed up for hell!”

 The voice of Officer Shadis boomed and bounced around the clearing, echoing in a way that had some soldiers shaking in their boots. His sunken eyes and gritty voice commandeered attention. Again, Jean found himself rolling his eyes. A smug smile snuck across his face as he eyed his competition. He by far was one of the bigger ones, he’d eat away at these small guys, easy. There was no way he wasn’t making the list of best in his class, a spot in the Military Police was almost guaranteed at this point. And no matter how hard the officers tried to beat a sense of fear into him, Jean persisted.

Training wasn’t nearly all that hard to begin with, as much of a ruckus as the officers had been making about it. In reality, most of it was for show, a way to weed out the weakest of the bunch. They had uniforms now, fitted ones that helped for free movement and allowed for their equipment to be attached.

 The gear that they used to soar to the height of titans and cut them down to dust and smoke was the first thing they were introduced to. Just being able to hold yourself up in the device was a technique all on its own. Jean, though he shook a bit on his first attempt, balanced his weight evenly and allowed for his body to take to the equipment easily. Others had more trouble. The girl who’d caught his eye earlier was a natural who put Alpha’s to shame. She was perfect. He would marry her.

 A scene was made when Eren, the brooding brunette from before, had fallen head first out of the set-up, his head slamming into the ground. And surprise, surprise, Jean bemused, the hot-headed brute seemed to have no talent. His angry demeanor must’ve been for show, a bit of compensation. In fact, when dinner rolled around, Jean told him this.

 “Give it up,” He said, honestly, “You aren’t cut out for this.”

 _“No way.”_ Eren had brooded. Strangely enough, he paid no attention to Jean. The crazy bastard seemed to be having the conversation with himself. Eventually, the blonde and the woman carted him off and Marco pursed his lips.

 “Give him a break.”

 “No time for breaks, Marco,” Jean clapped his hands as he watched them go, his eyes trained on his future wife, “If you can’t take the heat—“

 “Get outta the kitchen!” Another Alpha, Samuel, agreed.

Connie gulped, and Jean, going against what he had just preached so haughtily, said nothing to call him out on it.

 

                                                                                                     . . .                                

 

 

 

“You, uh, like to read, huh?”

 

It was late in the day and the only other person in this room was his blonde-haired blue-eyed roommate. Jean had stumbled into a seating area on the bottom floor of their sleeping quarters. The other was perched on the only sofa in the corner of the room and had looked up at the sound of Jean’s entrance.

 They’d looked at each other and he smiled that sweet smile again, so Jean felt he had to make some sort of small talk.

 “How’d you know?” the other asked, eyes bright and playful, head tipped to one side. Jean watched the hair caress that bony shoulder and blinked at this. Slowly.

 “Lucky guess.” Jean joked, shrugging lamely before he took a hesitant step and then back peddled almost immediately at the sharp sensation that struck him from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. It was, Jean felt, indiscernible in that moment. He could only think that it was weird. Really weird. In fact, he wanted to leave so that he could wrap his brain around the foggy sensation he felt creep so suddenly into his thoughts. Instead of making a scene, he shook his head, racked his brain so that he could follow the conversation he himself had started.

 “I’m Armin," the boy was saying, "You can sit if you’d like,” he offered, scooting to the further end politely. “I don’t take up much space.”

 Armin’s slim build cut a nice figure in their uniform. He was jacketless and the long sleeve shirt he normally wore beneath his vest fit around his torso in a way that made Jean’s palms sweat. His pants were firm around his hips. He smelled delicious. Jean was utterly perplexed.

 “No, you don’t,” he murmured carelessly.

 Jean had spoken without thinking, his mouth moving faster than his brain. Armin had braced himself at that and Jean, he smelled it.

He _smelled_ it?

Jean could feel Armin’s annoyance and he raised his hands, mind not comprehending what was happening, but sweating surely at having caused offense. He wanted to fix it, maybe.

 “Uh, not that you’re small! Er, well you’re not big,” Jean frantically tried to backtrack. At Armin’s unimpressed face, Jean himself took offense.

 “Actually, yeah, you’re a squirt.” He dead-panned.

 Armin snorted, closing his book and taking a stand, tucking it beneath his arm. He walked up to Jean and pointed his thumb back at the chair.

 “You know what, you can have the sofa.” He smiled, a fake one now.

 “S’nothin’ wrong with being small.” Jean shrugged, “You just can’t do what people like I can.”

 “Would you—could you just,” Armin stomped his foot and Jean felt the itch once more. His brows furrowed, nose scrunching up at the blonde in front of him. His smell was—it was, well _, good_.

 “You think you’re special because you’re an Alpha?” Armin asked incredulously, eyes big and blue.

 “Well, yeah. Good to know you can tell from just looking at me!” Jean gave a cheeky grin and Armin sniffed disdainfully.

 “Don’t flatter yourself,” he huffed, “Your smell is way too strong. Tone it down, will you?”

 Jean’s brows came down once more, bunching together in confusion.

 “My smell?”

 “Of course, your smell!” Armin ranted, “You’re flagrant, throwing it around like that! Show some self-control.” He tutted once more and stomped out of the room.

 Jean stood for a moment, face drawn up in complete bewilderment now.

 “You look constipated.” Connie said, entering the room beside him.

 

“Yeah, and you’re bald, so.”

 

 “…fuck you.”

 

 

 

. . .

 

 

The next day, Jean’s ‘competition’ must’ve knocked some sense into that empty head of his after falling on it so much because he’d strutted to the set-up like a peacock and nailed the gear technique after all. At dinner, later that week, Eren had been so damn smug about it all that Jean, once again annoyed and excited at a chance to show him up in front of the girl, ‘Mikasa’ he knew her to be now, had to burst his bubble.

 Bodies sore from combat training earlier that day, the two exchanged harsh words.  Jean called him out for his psychotic ramblings about killing all the titans just because he managed to master his maneuver gear and Eren had the nerve to call him a coward for not wanting to join the suicidal Survey Corps.

 The clash of Alpha pheromones drew attention from the others. Omegas squirmed uncomfortably in their seats and Betas rolled their eyes. Jean grinned menacingly as they went for each other’s necks. So pumped by the hype, heart beating at the thought of a clash with another Alpha, Jean missed the way Eren shifted and his own weight was used against him to toss him to the ground. Furious, embarrassed, Jean glared at Eren from above him and threw himself to his feet, squeamish at the idea of being looked down upon by an Alpha that was his inferior.

 The crowd was loud, jeering and Jean made another attempt to launch himself at the cock-sure bastard in front him when the sounds of boots on the deck, an officer approaching, caused everyone to scramble to their seats. As all the room's occupants pretended that nothing had occurred, blood rushed hotly throughout Jean’s body. He tried and failed to pull back his scent due to shear adrenaline, Marco nudged at his ribs.

 Officer Shadis peaked his ghoul-like head in, threatened them with laps at the slightest disturbance and slithered back out of the hall like something from a horror film. At his departure, the entire room let out a sigh of relief, except for Jean who watched Mikasa from across the room and prayed that she hadn’t witnessed his embarrassing altercation. He knew, however, that he had deserved it.

 When the hall cleared out, Jean tried to make amends with Eren, but the little demon had smacked his offered hand away. It was disrespectful and childish and Jean felt he owed him no more than that. He was matured enough that it didn’t bother him in the least. In fact, he’d laughed. His laughs fell silent, however, when Mikasa passed, following behind Eren to the exit. Distracted again by her appearance, he’d almost missed his chance and rushed to stop her.

 “Wait!” He stuttered out and Mikasa paused, eyes meeting his, knocking him breathless. She waited, her eyes flat.

 “Your, uh, your hair is really beautiful.” He really was pathetic after all.

 “Thank you.” She said, simply.

 “Sure.” He blushed.

 Mikasa glanced at him once more before chasing after Eren. Jean, bewitched by her grace, went after her, standing at the door as she made her way down the steps to where Eren waited. Eren glanced up at Jean smartly with those devilish green eyes of his and then turned his attentions to Mikasa fully.

 “Your hair’s getting long. Doesn’t that get in the way? You should cut it.”

 “Oh, is it?” Mikasa touched her ends as they walked away, twirling a dark strand around her thumb. Jean watched in awe. “I guess I’ll cut it then.”

 Jean wiped the rest of his trust on the back of Connie’s shirt and ignored his protests. If that was how Eren was going to play it, well, fine by him.

 “Mikasa doesn’t care much about looks, ‘Alpha’.”

And then there was Armin at his other side, a knowing look stole across his features, his eyes taunting.

 Jean watched his back as he too made his way down the steps, probably to catch the other two.

 “Jean,” He called to the blonde whose head cocked to the side in response, eyes wide as he peered back up at him. “My name is Jean.”

 Armin blinked at him, his eye lashes white-hot in the moonlight, glinting brilliantly. His smell, Jean noted once more, assaulted his nose sweetly. This beta was not his type. He wasn’t strong like Mikasa and he wasn’t an omega. Nor was he a woman, which Jean preferred. All of these reasons should have meant that this being had no effect on him. And yet, Armin’s face turned toward him, bathed in moonlight, had him at a loss for words. Armin shrugged at him as his only outward reaction to Jean's words and continued after Eren and Mikasa into the night.

 “Hey, do I smell?” He asked Connie off-handedly, watching Armin, willing his eyes away from his behind.

 “No. Why? Did you pass gas? You’re disgusting.”

 It wasn’t until he laid in bed that night, belly hot with the signs of oncoming rut, that he realized when he was with Mikasa, he hadn’t smelled a thing.

. . .

 

Over the next few weeks, training was grueling. They were forced to run laps even when they did no wrong. ‘Conditioning’, Shadis called it.  Jean had to admit that towards the end of it all his lungs ached and his ribs squeezed hotly. Still, he stood tall amongst the rest of the cadets who were crouched over in the dirt, trying to catch their breath.  Mikasa stood beside him, her chest heaved a bit, but she didn’t bend over, her hands rest at her hips as she watched Eren finish his lap.

 

“So,” Jean started.

 “No.” she said, as simply as before.

 “Ha, yeah, me too.” He chuckled weakly, too quickly, scratching at his hair. Except, that had made no sense and now she was looking at him like he was insane.

 Awkwardly looking away now, Jean met eyes with Armin Arlert once more. He hadn’t even run the full amount of laps. In fact, he was sprawled on his back, chest absolutely heaving as he coughed into his arm. Still, they watched each other, curiously. Jean had questions. He wondered if behavior like this was normal. He couldn’t count how many times they’d done this. Even alone, if they found themselves in conversation, teasing each other or discussing actual things like training regiments and strategies, there’d be times where they looked at each other and just did not (Could not?) look away.

 “Wait,” Jean pouted, tearing his eyes from Armin’s. “You don’t even know what I was going to say!”

Mikasa ignored him and began stretching as part of their cool down. They would be moving to strength exercises in about a half. These were being timed and tested. Armin, Jean decided as he watched him once more, had to be failing.

 “You shouldn’t be talking to me.”

 “What’s that supposed to mean--?!”

 Jean stopped abruptly as he watched, if he recalled correctly, Reiner Braun swagger his stupidly beefy frame over to Armin’s distraught form. He watched as he stood over him, laughing like they were best buds and then bent down to extend his hand. Jean watched Armin take it, aghast, and he watched Reiner’s big paw settle at the small of his back as he encouraged him to finish. Even more aghast.

 The itch returned full force.

 “You missed your chance.” Mikasa said quietly.

 Eren jogged up to them. He nodded at Jean, but he still gave him a wary look as he dragged Mikasa away by the arm. Jean puffed his cheeks at this. Mikasa was a grown woman, Jean would talk to her as he pleased. And then he would marry her.

 ‘You missed your chance.’

 He’d show her chances. He’d ask her out next time. Instead of watching her retreat, however, he watched Armin painfully push through his laps, face determined as Marco and Reiner cheered him on from the sidelines.

 “You got it, Armin!” Eren shouted to the lonely figure on the dirt track.

 

 

‘You missed your chance,’ she’d said.

 

 

. . .

 

 

 

“What do you mean your rut’s coming!? You don’t have suppressants?”

 Marco stared at him wide eyed from his bunk across the room. It was just the two of them but still Jean winced at his shouting.

 “It’s early.” Jean explained,trying to contain his annoyance. Marco was just trying to help after all.

 “You should always bring them just in case.”

 “I’m an entire month early,” Jean pressed. “And we only have this last week of basic left. Why would I pack ‘em if I’d be home for it?”

 “Oh, I don’t know, maybe because it’s what a responsible Alpha would do?” Marco tried, freckles scrunching closer with the twist of his lips.

 “A month, Marco. A _month_.”

 “I guess you better ask around.”

 “Or I could just jerk off in the stalls for a while.”

 “That’s gross.”

 “Human nature,” Jean grinned, stripping out of his uniform and into a pair of shorts for bed. Marco dropped the subject as others filed in from the Dinner hall, bellies full and bodies aching for a night’s rest.

 Jean earned a ‘ _whoop’_ from one of the guys who passed his bed to get to theirs, the smell of his rut teasing, humming from his body, causing them to jeer.

 “Better go get you one of them omegas next door,” they cat-called and Jean stuck his middle fingers up at them all, slipping beneath his covers.

 “Eat shit.”

 It was all in good fun, really. Even Eren, who had warmed up a bit to him these past weeks, had joked that he had a spare box of tissues under his bed. The lights were cut at nine and besides a few murmurs the bedroom went quiet. Jean struggled to get comfortable. He had two days at most, a day at least. Most likely, he had a day if the others could smell it on him, to get something for it before he was hit full force with the need to fuck into something, anything.

 Just swell.

 A hushed whisper broke his train of thought. Jean’s ears perked at the voices from the far end of the room. Someone was snoring, but still, beneath it, he heard what sounded like Eren’s voice.

 “Are you feeling alright?” He was saying.

 In the dark, it was hard to tell just who he was talking to so Jean didn’t bother looking. Instead, he burrowed further into his bedding and contemplated calling out for him to shut it. People were trying to sleep, after all.

 “Armin, seriously,” Eren’s voice grew louder. At this new revelation, he twisted towards them, trying to make out their figures in the dark of the night.

 “ _Armin_.”

 “I’m Ok.”

 “You need to go to a nurse.”

 “I’m fine.”

 “You’re _hot_.”

 A weak laugh and then Jean made out a raspy, cheesy, “I know.”

 “I’m not kidding.”

 “Tomorrow,” Armin whispered, voice cracking and holy hell Jean could smell him from across the room. That was ridiculous. He couldn’t be the only one smelling it. And Armin had the nerve to tell him that _he_ was throwing his scent around.

 Eren seemed placated by this, shutting his trap after a while. From then on, the sounds of whispers stopped fully, everyone seemed to have gone off to sleep. Jean didn’t know how long he laid there, struggling to find a position that didn’t make him want to hump his mattress. The smell was overpowering now. It couldn’t possibly be just Armin. He was horny and he was suddenly only just holding himself under control. It was mind-blowing. Never had he jumped stages so quickly. He should've had a day before he felt his control start to slip. And yet...

Gods, He really wanted to sleep, though.

 Maybe another hour passed and Jean was thoroughly convinced that sleep was something he was not going to get. He sat up, throwing his blanket off his legs and threw himself over the side of his bed. He’d go to the bathroom, knock one out and let the exhaustion that would follow take him. It was a good enough plan.

 Mind set on masturbating, he’d thought he completely imagined it when he heard a breathy little moan flitter from the back of the room. Surely, he’d misheard things, Jean reasoned, continuing his trek to the door. His socked feet tipped around discarded garments, trying to make as little noise as possible. If anyone caught him he’d never hear the end of it. In his underwear, tipping off to the bathroom with a full-blown hard-on and _‘Just taking a piss’_ , yeah fucking right.

Connie. Connie was the one who was snoring. Jean wouldn’t let him live it down, then.

 Then it happened again, the whispery little moan stole across the room and Jean was hit with a wave of pheromones that almost knocked him off his feet. The air barreled out of his chest and he bent over to clutch at his knees. The smell that rocked him sent fire through his veins, his heart pounded at a rate that was staggering and suddenly he was hot, too hot. And his chest itched with a fiery burn, erection straining almost ridiculously taut now against his pants.

 Jean whipped around, eyes widening at the implication. It wasn’t him, it wasn’t his rut, but something was definitely triggering it to come even sooner. Who, who was moaning like that? In a room full of Betas and Alphas who were now shifting in their beds, no doubt affected by whatever was eating at Jean like this. And fuck, fuck. It dawned on him.

 It was Armin.

 It suddenly all made so much sense. The smells, the looks, the heat. It was the only possible explanation. But Armin, Jean assured himself, was a Beta.

 _“You’re hot.”_ Eren had said.

And Jean could barely understand it himself, but before he realized it, he had sprinted back towards the opposite side of the room, no longer worried about noise, his feet pounding against the wooden floor. Carelessly, his foot knocked into a bed post, shaking whoever was there fully awake now and oh, Jean's eyes zeroed in. No, no, no.

 There was Armin, knees up, sheets twisted around his legs, stuck to his skin from the moisture of his sweat. The smell he gave off knocked Jean over once more, punching him in his gut. His vision went blurry for a moment, barely registering the tiny hands that were now twisting in his pants, pulling him, dragging him over.

 And then Armin was breathing that breathy little moan in his ear. He could make out his chest lifting from the mattress, back arching up into Jean, leg curling around his waist and fuck, Jean didn’t know what was going on. He should pull away. He should. But god, fuck, he didn’t want to.

 “Jean?” He rasped, blowing into Jean’s ear as Jean’s hips shifted forward, uncontrollably,

 “Here, right here,” he didn’t know what he was saying, why his mouth was moving or how Armin had known for sure that it was him. All he knew was that for once, everything just felt right. What the fuck was going on?

 “What the _fuck_ is going on?” Eren growled from somewhere to his right. His scent crashed violently, wrongly, with theirs, pounding. _Protective_ , Jean realized, barely, because the same thing welled up inside of him alarmingly fast and then he was angry at the thought that someone one would challenge him, that anyone else would have the gall to be near Armin like while he was like ‘this’.

When he heard Armin coo for him, his brain officially short circuited.

 Suddenly Jean felt a force, another body, knock into him, pushing him from Armin’s bed, air leaving him as his back hit the ground. Whispers grew louder, the lights were thrown on and what a sight it was to see, Jean thought, as his head swam and his eyes refocused.

 “Armin,” Jean breathed, eye lids low, pupils blown as he took him in. His shirt was damp, pushed up his chest, exposing a nipple and the tightening of his stomach muscles. He wore shorts but they were edging off his hips, the bones of them peeking through, covers strewn about. Jean’s eyes took in the way his hair stuck to his neck and flew about the pillow, head tossed back, neck in a similar angle as his back as he clenched his eyes shut, pink mouth gaping. The killer, the nail in the coffin, were the mounds Jean saw at his crotch, his petite little hands were shoved desperately down his shorts.

And he wanted. God, he  wanted.

 Then he remembered that he wasn’t the only one watching. His stance tightened, muscles bracing as he let out a growl that sent a few of the others running out of the room. A beta Jean didn’t recognize in his current haze was forcing an Alpha out the door, his flustered face tried over and over again to peer around him at Armin as he was shoved out and Jean was furious at the fact.

 “Jean?” Marco asked, hair tousled from sleep, concern wrought on his face and a hand covering his mouth.

 Jean didn't hear him. He knocked Eren away from Armin where he’d been crouched at his side, hands on his face, sending him into the wall and then Marco was there behind him, hands wrapped around his torso as he tried to hold him back.

 “Jean, get a hold of yourself!”

 “ _Jean_!” Marco screamed as Jean tore himself loose, throwing his body over Armin’s, shielding him from  any other eyes. The sounds of Alpha’s, maybe he heard Connie too, being forced out the room rung in his ears but didn’t fully register. His erection was almost forgotten in the mist of his fury, ears ringing loudly. He couldn’t think.

 “Eren!” Marco cried now, locking Eren down to the floor as best as he could. Eren snapped at Jean from below and Marco grunted in his effort to contain him. He watched Jean and Armin cling to each other, desperate, in shock. “Would _somebody_ \--!”

 Suddenly, senior officers were in the room. Jean knew because he heard their boots and their shouts at him to stand down, but his eyes were locked with Armin’s. Armin who was searching his face hopelessly, eyes full of confusion, concern and hot with arousal. His cheeks were pink, eyelashes fluttering up at him. Jean was rendered speechless.

 “Jean,” he breathed, “Jean, Jean, _Jean_.”

 It sounded heavenly and Jean found his eyes almost crossed in ecstasy. He wrapped his hands around Armin’s sweaty hips and pulled him up into his arms, nuzzled his head into his blistering, loose neck. The smell there was invigorating, his lips moved on their own. Armin's legs were pressing at his sides, his lithe body was writhing, pushing closer and closer even though it wasn't possible for them now. In the midst of it all, Jean was overcome with one glaring thought.

 

' **Mine.'**

 

“I’ll fucking kill you,” Eren was saying, over and over again from beneath Marco.

 “Hey, knock it off!” A soldier yelled, kicking his foot into Jean’s back. Another came to his side and wrenched his arm between the two of them, wrapping his arms around Armin to pull him loose. Jean growled increasingly louder and the soldier behind him locked him in a choke hold as he ripped him from the bed.

 “Watch it!” He warned, locking Jean’s limbs tightly.

 “You have to stop,” Jean cried, choked, “He needs me.”

 “Jean, Jean, Jean,” Armin whined from where he was being lifted, bridal-style into another man’s arms.

 “Stop!” Jean hollered, besides himself from the pain, “Stop!”

Why did it hurt?

“I’ll fucking kill you, Jean. I swear I will.”

 “ _Armin._ ” Jean cried, arm reaching out as the officer raced him from the rooms and then a sharp, numbing pain blossomed at the back of Jean’s neck, his vision swam. His sight went in and out for a brief second and faded softly to black. Darkness swallowed him as his body collapsed in the officer’s hold.

 

 

. . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't look at me like that, someone had to do it. We need more Jearmin ABO in this world.  
> Thank you all for the kudos from last chapter! And thank you suchakidder for your comment! Comments make me feel all fuzzy, I really appreciate it!


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